Rubber stamps are bigger and more powerful than ever before. Who would have thought coloring between the lines could prove to be such a plague among adults. Who I ask!

We must stop this insanity!

I call upon my fellow brothers and sisters of the non-rubber stamping cloth, I call upon you to help me end this so called hobby. What kind of hobby exploits innocent rubber trees and those other trees used to make those silly little mounts. What kind of trees are used to make mounts anyway? Oak, maple maybe? I pity the tree that is perceived by some chopping crazed lunatic as being qualified to be a mount. I’d prefer to be made into a cardboard box, or maybe a nice coat rack. Yes, that’s a bit more noble.

And those poor innocent rubber trees. What’s the deal with them? If I were a rubber tree I’d sooner be made into a tire, or a condom. Yes, a dirty condom is what I’d aspire to instead of an inky mess of a stamp.

Oh, the joy it must be to be a fig tree. The envy of all the other trees.

What kind of hobby is this I ask?*

Fellow brothers, I urge you to stand up against, these, these, spawns of aliens. That’s right, of aliens. They are truly among us, and they are rubber stampers.

*All questions asked are meant to be rhetorical. They don't even require an answer.

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